Kill or Be Killed
by MarcellusMiro66
Summary: "If you had to kill a bad person...who would you pick?" A "Making The Case" / "Brawl In The Family" / "No Such Luck" AU that is a complete Mind Screw with a dark and (somewhat) somber tone. (Lincoln x Cristina; one-sided Cristina x Tabby)
1. Chapter 1: Hurt (Prologue)

_Hi, everyone, **MarcellusMiro66** here! This is a **Loud House** story once again inspired by "No Such Luck", but with a different approach. Taking a page from **That Engineer** 's " **What Is A Person Worth?**", the story injects a heavy dose of gritty realism but also mixes it with a supernatural element that represents the characters' internal conflict, similar to **Life is Strange**. Of course, knowing the one and only me and me only, I could be lying..._

 _As he is at his wit's end, Lincoln (after being kicked out of the house and forced to wear a squirrel costume for the family's benefit) mentally develops a new friend: a split personality who possesses a calm and charismatic personality, but also harbors a murderous obsession towards cleansing the world of criminals, thugs, and generally bad people. Of course, this affects everybody he cares about, especially his family._

 _The story and tone is akin of that of a dramatic thriller with supernatural elements, but it isn't without any lighthearted moments. The style can be seen as a hybrid of **Taxi Driver** and **Donnie Darko**. So, with that said..._

 _Enjoy! If you can..._

* * *

 ** _Luck._** A success or failure seemingly brought by chance rather than one's own actions. A specific something primarily regarded as bringing about or foretell good or bad occurrences. "A purposeless, unpredictable and uncontrollable force that shapes events favourably or unfavourably for an individual, group or cause" as described by Noah Webster and his dictionary, or "events that influence one's life and are seemingly beyond one's control" as defined by Max Gunther and his author license." Little is known of luck's importance in the average human being's everyday lifestyle. One thing's for sure, though: It remains a controversial topic for many years to come.

The meaning of the word _**luck**_ (or _**chance**_ on occasion) can vary by the by the philosophical, religious, mystical and emotional context of the one interpreting it. When thought of as a factor beyond one's control, without regard to one's will, intention or desired result, there are at least two senses that people usually mean when the term is utilized: the _prescriptive_ sense and the _descriptive_ sense. In the _prescriptive_ sense, it [luck] is a supernatural and deterministic concept that there are forces (e.g. gods or spirits) that determine certain events which occur very much the way laws of physics will prescribe that certain events occur. In other words, people say they "do not believe in luck". In the _descriptive_ sense, people speak of luck after a series of fortunate or unfortunate events that prompt possible uncertainty.

Unfortunately for one Lincoln Loud, his family of ten (eleven plus him) rapidly retreated to the latter camp all because of a _fucking_ baseball game. Even if he [Lincoln] was the instigator of this entire mess (as you will see), it was the family who ultimately saw the bad lie as all too real.

Somehow, this worked to his benefit.

 ** _Schizophrenia._** A mental disorder characterized a series of abnormal social behavior and inability to comprehend what is fact and what is fiction. Delusion, thought disorders, and auditory hallucination are some of the most common symptoms, while others includes reduced social engagement, little to no emotional expressions, and a lack of motivation. It largely develops in young adolescence and can lead to additional mental health difficulties such as anxiety, depressive, or substance-use disorders. A chronic duration, the personality disorder known as schizophrenia can _and_ **_will_** last for a _very_ long time.

Environmental and genetic factors have been identified the causes of schizophrenia. Environmental factors include certain infections, parental age, poor pregnancy nutrition, adolescents' usage of cannabis, and being raised (good or bad, it didn't matter) in a densely populated city; genetic factors include a plethora of common and scarce genetic variants. The diagnosis of a patient is established around behavior observed, reported experiences centered on the person, reports of the people who knew said person, and that person's culture. However, contrary to popular belief, schizophrenia doesn't imply signs of "dissociative identity disorder", "multiple personality disorder", or a "split personality". The treatment centerpieces are antipsychotic medication, counselling, job training and social rehabilitation. Clozapine may be prescribed for those who don't improve with other antipsychotics. It remains unclear if either typical or atypical antipsychotics are better than the other.

Involuntary hospitalization may be necessary in more serious situations, although hospital visits have become less and less frequent than once before. One thing is certain, however.

Somehow, _that_ worked for _her_ benefit.

 ** _Psychology._** A science of behavior, mind, and thought. An academic discipline and social science seeking to understand individuals by creating extensive rules and analyzing specific cases. A person who studies in this field is known as a "psychologist", who can be ranked as a social, behavioral, or cognitive scientist. They aim to comprehend the role of mental functions in both individual behavior and social behavior; while also delving into the physiological/biological processes that influence subjective functions and behaviors. Psychologists explore the behavior and mental processes, which include perception, cognition, attention, emotion (affect), intelligence, phenomenology, motivation (conation), brain functioning, and personality.

The study of psychology can often extend to social interactions (interpersonal relationships), psychological resilience, family resilience, and additional areas. Psychologists utilize empirical methods to interpret casual and correlational relationships between psychosocial variables. In addition (or opposition for some), some psychologists – especially those who are clinical or counseling – often rely on symbolic interpretation and other inductive techniques. Psychology is directed towards the comprehension and solving problems in several domains of human activity, while also being applied to the analysis and remedy of mental health problems. It has been described as a "hub science", with links to the social sciences, natural sciences, medicine, humanities, and philosophy.

So why am I telling you this? Because you should made aware of _and_ _ **know**_ this.

Somehow...it worked to _**all** of_ their detriment.

* * *

 ** _(Friday, April 14th 2017)_**  
 ** _(1:00 PM)_**

 ** _(" Hurt" – Nine Inch Nails) [Johnny Cash Cover]_**

The Loud Family arrived home from the beach and exited their decrepit family van, all the while talking about all the fun times they had on their day out. At the same time, however, Lincoln was ruthlessly reprimanded by both of his parents for attempting to take off his squirrel costume. His explanation fell on deaf ears, as both parents wouldn't have it; they weren't going to let their son (whose pointless explanation that involved him _not_ being bad luck was equally appalling) ruin their perfect day. As punishment, they sent him to his room for the meantime until nighttime, when he was required to reside outside while the squirrel costume (their only "hope" of good luck staying alive and on their side) would be inside for cleaning.

Lincoln silently closed the door of his formerly boarded-up room and slipped out of the squirrel costume in a similar fashion. He found that, upon getting out, his room was stripped of his furniture; from his clothing to his laptop, everything (and we mean _everything_ ) was sorted in dark grey plastic storage bins. His "room" resembled more of a storage closet. The fitting irony was this: his room was an _actual_ closet to begin with.

Lincoln himself couldn't care less. _Three months._ It had been _three_ _ **fucking**_ _weeks_ since this whole fiasco had commenced, and he was beginning to regret his decision to use the squirrel costume following Lynn's baseball game. Summer was close to beginning, and it was not a way to begin it. He eventually got what he wanted out of the distressing experience (some peace and quiet time for himself), so why wasn't he happy? Well, it was during this point in this personal hell that Lincoln reached a realization: _When was the last time any of my sisters supported my activities? Sure, there was that karate tryout, but only my parents showed up and that only earned me a broken arm and hand. Then there was that beauty pageant that became the butt of many a joke for Lola. And of course, who could forget that one event where I was the self-proclaimed marathon man? ... I came in last. I came in fucking last and nobody fucking showed up. Well, except the clean-up guy, but he's supposed to be there! I, on the other hand, signed up! How could I be so...stupid?!_

Lincoln sighed to himself and curled into a ball, silently sobbing in between his knees. It became apparent that whenever he made time for his family and the accompanying events, all (or, at the very least, _half_ ) of the family showed. However, few could attend whenever the role reversal ever occurred.

 _Does my family really see as nothing more than a good luck charm? Am I not a brother or...a_ _ **son**_ _to them?_

Lincoln decided to turn in early for the night and slipped on the dreaded squirrel costume, but not before spraying it with an overdose of air freshener. Placing everything back in its former place, he exited the bedroom and descended downstairs to head outside...unaware of the shadow following him out.

* * *

 ** _(3:00 PM)_**

Cristina had been staring at her reflection in the mirror for two minutes too long. She sighed softly at the girl before her: a girl who was 11 years of age and should have something better to do than sell her body for money and (forced) pleasure. She wanted desperately to be someone other than this girl, but she couldn't. Either through laziness or resignation, she just couldn't. Sometimes, she believed it was her inevitable fate. Sometimes, she believed it was meant to be. Sometimes...she believed it was this line spoken to her by her mother that should've foreshadowed the events to come:

 _"Sit still and look pretty, my daughter..."_

Cristina scowled at that morbid memory and shook it off, proceeding to get ready. She slowly stripped out of her usual navy blue blouse, which surprisingly hid skin and flesh beneath. In plain English, she was naked the entire time. The feeling would be rather bittersweet, as she slipped on a black lingerie set, complete with bra, underwear, and garter belt with stockings. Applying red lipstick and black eye shadow, she then placed a black hairband in place of her usual orange, but she kept the golden hoops intact. For the finishing touch, she slid on a pair of black leather Mary Jane flats and a black see-through dress. Now an 11-year-old **_femme fatale_** , it was important for her to be seductive and morally ambiguous, as one would do. In this case, the proper term would be a **_fille fatale_**.

Cristina, the moment she stepped out her door, had expected her first client of the night to be another teenage dirtbag like the others she pleasured so far.

 _I, the moment I stepped out my door, had expected my next client of the night to be another teenage dirtbag like the others I've pleasured so far. But no... It had to be a_ _ **her**_ _. A_ _ **her**_ _rather than a_ _ **he**_ _. No, I'm not exactly bi, but damn, if looks can kill...then I'm already dead. It's just that girls – specifically the ones around my age_ _– tend to be the most sexiest...and the most hornest in rare cases._ _God, my hormones are practically rocketing sky high at this moment. She's such a sexy motherfucker, you know that?_

"Now who might you be?"

This next client of hers (to her surprise) _wasn't_ like the other teenage dirtbags she pleasured so far. It was a girl, an 11-year-old girl with jet-black hair with gelled-up purple highlights. Other highlights (no pun intended) included a gap between her front teeth, a set of pierced ears but no earrings in sight, and pink eye shadow. Her clothing set consisted of an aubergine jacket, a mini T-shirt with horizontal stripes, a pink checkered skirt, and a pair of white platform boots.

"The name's Tabitha Tipton, but my mates call me Tabby."

 _Mmm, Tabby... Oh, and she's British, too..._

"Tabby... Well, Tabby..." _God, I love saying her name..._ "What bring you to the _Blue Triangle Club_ at three in the afternoon, no less?"

Tabby shrugged her shoulders as she stuffed both hands into both hands of her jacket, "I don't know, honestly. I just came for...some stress relief, I guess."

Cristina chuckled and nodded, "Yeah, I can relate with you there. You look like you need a major overdose of it."

"No shit."

The rock girl was suddenly caught off guard by the girly girl placing a big old smooch on the lips, which she melted into anyway. When they both broke away, they stared deeply into each other's eyes. The mutual feeling wasn't exactly love, but it wasn't exactly far from it either. It was _lust_... A dose of _dangerous lust_...

"What's it like?"

"What?"

"All of... _this_."

"... Well...it isn't exactly glamorous, but...then again, it's not supposed to be."

"And yet you still stay? Why?"

"... I just do. It's my job."

"... Well...keep doing it."

And so, Cristina and Tabby ended up bedding each other by the end of the night...unaware of the sweet dreams that would be plaguing their sleep...

* * *

 ** _(5:00 PM)_**

Dr. Aurora Lopez, a French-Hispanic woman who was currently 31 years of age, sat in her office as she studied the notes she took from other cilents. The building at which her office was constructed in was actually quite commodius, being 20 stories in the air. Unfortunately, this also meant that more people could be allowed in, ranging from dentists to gynecologists. She didn't mind it, though. It was...unexpected, to say the least. Her office contained (aside from her smooth dark brown Bush Northfield Credenza) a master sofa, a recliner, and a lounging chair for her clients to get comfortable on. To get where she was today (besides her office), the biracial doctor displayed painstaking eminence in the past decade, but it never hurt to take small steps.

Her transfer to the small town of Royal Woods was a start for the young psychologist; it was neither good nor bad, but a mere start. She had a fair amount of clients (20 to 60 per year), but out of them, none could compare to the married couple of Howard and Harold McBride. Well aware of the presumed stigma a same-sex could possibly face from those specific religious groups, Aurora had considered them to be her most complex out of all of her clients. Despite the occasional nuisance subdued within (i.e., their adoptive son Clyde and his persistent case of unrequited romance), Dr. Lopez was the living embodiment of very patience...but even she could lose her nerve from time to time. This wasn't entirely true, however; she never would vent her frustration in front of her clients.

 _This was my problem..._

Dr. Lopez smoothed down from her forehead to her nose bridge, flicking away any bead of sweat her pair of fingers encountered. It was close to quitting time now. She yawned as she closed her notepad (the purple-and-black one of many) and sat up from her chair, walking to the coat rank behind her and retrieving her yellow overcoat. Placing on herself, she searched for her car keys and exited her office; from her office to the parking lot, she located her car – a BMW Black 7 Boss – and drove off to her house in Detroit...unaware of the dimmed light watching her from afar.

When she arrived at her house, Dr. Lopez took a long look at her father's household. It was just the same as before 20 years prior: two stories, brown bricks, a white door, front stairs that led to said white door, and a green roof. Her mother was a woman who favored an even mix of simple and exquisite taste; her father was the same, except it was flip-flopped with a greater emphasis of exquisite over simple. Knowing better than to ask why as a little girl, she assumed that it ran in the family. She knew better now.

Dr. Lopez sighed solemnly and walked up the front stairs, reaching the front doors and unlocking it. Entering her house and closing the door behind her, she stopped under the impression that someone was watching her before shaking her head and continuing on inside.

Oh, how right she was...

 _The figure from the outside watching three of the main characters so far (aside from himself) took the form of a black mist, chuckling to himself as hands clasped together – the surefire sign of a plan being formulated._

* * *

 _ **A/N** : The story can be also seen as a Spiritual Successor to my "Brawl in the Family" story, " **The Devil's Carnival** ". Both take place during widely despised episodes of the TV series, contain a supernatural element, and involve Lincoln losing his sanity. Also, this may or may not be a revival of my other controversial "No Such Luck" story, " **Unforgettable** "...you know, the one where Nick and Judy from **Zootopia** are humans there. (I'm deeply sorry for that, by the way, and hope that it isn't off-putting or even traumatizing for some.) It may contain some parts from said story, but it is a different story completely...and you can ignore it (or make of it what you will until I delete it)._


	2. Chapter 2: First Encounter, First Kill

**_(Saturday, April 15th 2017)  
(2:00 PM)_**

Lincoln headed towards the junkyard a few inches away, the already scuffed squirrel suit being dragged behind him. Angry didn't even begin to describe the expression that painted his face. He was livid. He was vexed. He was infuriated beyond words. His infuriated anger somehow gave him the strength to leave the house around the afternoon and take the squirrel suit with him, the intent of destroying and removing it from existence fresh on his mind. So, you can imagine his excitement (for lack of a better term) when he spotted a nearby fire of burning furniture raging around a chain-link fence. With every stomp he took, his feat of speed increased even faster than the last before he threw the costume over the junkyard fence and watched as it was set ablaze and reduced to nothing short of ashes. The destruction of the dreaded object was something of a catharsis for him; even if his family would yell at him for doing so, he couldn't give a shit about it.

That was then. This is now.

As he turned tail to take a seat and a subsequent breather, Lincoln did a double take; for some odd reason, there was something __very__ familiar about the aforementioned burning furniture. Taking a more closer but careful look at the pile, he backtracked in shock. __Is that my bed...? And my drawer...?!__ Indeed, his suspicions were confirmed: the furniture in the burning pile was his own bed and drawer, contradicting the earlier statement made by his parents that they had sold his bedroom movables by mistakes. He saw the truth now. __They...they lied to me...__

 _ _"They always do, Lincoln..."__

Lincoln's head shot up in alarm. Turning around to face a mirror, this particular mirror...held a "special" reflection, to say the least. It was a female version of himself, complete with white waist-length hair, an orange blouse and dark blue skirt in place of his polo and jeans, a pair of white earrings, and red shoes with white knee-high socks replacing his own white sport shoes with red stripes and a pair of grey (blue-and-white striped) socks. However, they were all tainted with a ghostly appearance and something that resembled blood. __What if...that really__ _ _is__ _ _blood?__

"Who... Who are you?"

 _ _"I think we both know who I am, Lincoln..."__ The genderbent reflection smirked.

A moment passed before the realization hit him like a handgun bullet, "You're...you're __me__?"

 _ _"In a way, yes. I exist in a reality where the sexes of your family and friends are switched. Their cruelty towards the middle child of a 11-sibling family is much harsher than your own. Like you, I was accused of being a bad luck charm and thrown of my own family's household, never to be let in ever again...until yesterday night..."__

"... What happened...yesterday night?"

 _ _"I was raped...then murdered...and then raped again."__

Lincoln didn't know how to react to the news. Maybe it was because of the level of violence his female counterpart's assailants inflicted on her, maybe it was because of the calm and blunt delivery of said news. He knew how to act, however, in response.

"I'm __so__ sorry. Do they...know yet?"

 _ _"... No. Not yet, they don't. They will, eventually."__

"You're not thinking about...you know...?"

 _ _"Getting revenge? Honestly... No, I haven't, but thanks for the idea."__

"Oh, shoot. Good job, Lincoln."

 _ _"Yes... A good job, indeed."__ The female counterpart rubbed her chin and shot a small grin at an unnoticing Lincoln, __"But don't worry. I'm not going to get revenge on my family... You will."__

"Oh, that's a relief." The second realization hit the naïve boy again, this time like a bullet train. "Wait... _ _what__? No. No, no, no. I...I can't. I can't just straight up kill my family; I could get arrested."

 _ _"I never said you would have to "__ _ ** _kill your family_**_ _ _" to get revenge, Lincoln."__ When she saw the confusion plastered again on his face, she rolled her eyes in amusement. __"Let me elaborate. Yes, there will be killing involved, but the people involved in getting killed off are not your family."__

"They're not?"

 _ _"Of course not. I'm that generous. Like you, I'm perfectly reasonable with anyone...except when I'm not. I'm a generally nice person, Lincoln... You just don't want to__ _ ** _fuck_**_ _ _with me."__

Lincoln's female counterpart began to visibly rattle Lincoln himself. He was starting to doubt and even think twice about allying himself with his __reflection__ of all things. Indeed, she could be a realistic figment of his deranged imagination. A girl with a lethal obsession and a personality that equaled it. This reality of hers was more or less a product of his mental psyche playing its usual tricks on him whenever he was depressed or lacking in pills.

What did he have to lose...besides his life and his family's own?

"Duly noted," Lincoln replied after a moment's notice.

 _ _"Took you long enough,"__ the female counterpart commented before she stood up, prompting her male counterpart to do the same. __"Now...you're going to go that poor excuse of a gas station/convenience store owned by that swindling old loser aptly called Flip. You're going to march up to him, demand him that he give you his money, and wreak havoc on the store like it was the end of the world."__

Lincoln took in her words carefully and fully comprehended them, "So you're asking me to commit a robbery? How am I supposed to do that?"

 _ _"You have me, remember?"__ She snapped her fingers and a brown rectangular box appeared before him. Lincoln opened it to find a brown leather jacket and a thin black zip-up hoodie just his size and a dark red ski mask that left his eyes only visible. Taking the clothes to examine their texture, he unwittingly discovered a few more items hidden beneath his new outfit. His eyes widened upon the sight of them: a pair of pistols with two boxes of ammunition. The first one was a standard Beretta 92FS originating from Italy, while the second was a black Colt Python with a 4" barrel, factory black rubber combat grips, and the serial number filed off; the first box of ammunition contained the average 9x19mm bullets required for the Beretta, while the shells for the Colt Python were .357 Magnum Hydra-Shoks...whatever those were. Both handguns were equipped with their holsters.

After getting dressed in his new clothing (the box seemingly disappearing into thin air), Lincoln was given a few moments to get acquainted with his new firearms. He learned about how to properly load and reload the bullets, activate and deactivate the safety, and correctly handle the firearms received...all in ten minutes flat. When he was finished, he realized something vital about his female counterpart:

"Do you have a name? I mean, I don't want to sound rude or anything..."

 _ _"Indeed, I do. It's Linka."__

"Oh! Okay. Nice to meet you, Linka. I was tempted to call you __'Liberty'__."

Linka shot Lincoln a __"__ _ _Are You Kidding Me__ _ _?"__ look before thinking it over for a few seconds. __"I suppose it's a suitable nickname...but nobody but you can refer to me as such."__ She was met with a __"__ _ _Okay Then__ _ _..."__ look before she broke the awkward silence with __"Oh, and it's nice to meet you too, Lincoln."__ And subsequently disappeared into the mirror realm, waiting to be summoned again. __Well...__ Technically, she wasn't summoned to begin with, but you got the idea, right?

 ** _ _ **RIGHT?**__**

Anyway, a mad Lincoln exited the junkyard with his hands tucked into his pockets. His body flowed with furious anger and focused determination. His first stop was Flip's Food and Fuel. That disrespectful and egotistic asshole of a senior citizen almost killed him and his family when he deliberately trapped them in a restaurant unable to withstand the horribly worsening blizzard last Christmas. Of course, it didn't matter now, for only two things came into play and completely changed the game's rules: 1) He didn't give a shit about his family anymore (with the possible exceptions of Lily, Pop-Pop, and even Aunt Ruth), and 2) vengeance was a long way coming for Lincoln. The difference between that and justice.

Justice was a funny thing to discuss. Vengeance wasn't.

When Lincoln entered the gas station/mini-mart, the main man himself was nowhere to be found and around. However, two familiar faces plagued his already angry vision even further: two particularly big, burly, base boys who heisted all of Franklin Avenue's candy from all of the kids last Halloween. True, it was his and Clyde's idea to suggest to head there in the first place, but it was also their own foolish idea to take their own foolish advice in the first place.

 _Hmm. Guess I know who I'm killing first._

Lincoln's left hand reached over to his right side just as his right reached over to his left. He didn't have enough time to properly dress, hence the crisscross way of drawing his guns. When he finally got them to the correct side, the two teens noticed the establishment's third customer and immediately recognized him through his red mask.

"Well, if it isn't little old Larry," Hawk smirked as he cracked his knuckles.

"Technically, he's a bit young," Hank shrugged.

"It's metaphorical! And it don't matter right now!" Turning back to a stoic Lincoln, Hawk pointed his finger accusingly at him. "What do you think you're doing here, Loud? Everybody _in the entire state of Michigan_ knows that you're nothing but a good-for-nothing bad luck jinx! So why don't you get lost?!"

At that, Lincoln unmasked himself before flashing his Colt Python and aiming it Hawk, who laughed in mockery despite the fate that would befall in a split second or so.

"Oh! So you got a gun now? Man, you really are tough. Go ahead. Shoot me. I bet you don't even have the – "

 ** _BANG!_**

Hawk and Hank's eyes respectively widened in horror when they both realized what had happened. The former glanced down to find his stomach blasted open by the .357 Magnum shells of Lincoln's Colt Python. The latter glanced up to find Lincoln smiling upon using the firearm. Even worse, both of them had already established their phobia of blood beforehand. It was at this moment...that he knew they made a horrible mistake.

They both _fucked_ up.

"Have what? The guts? It's okay." Lincoln couldn't help but giggle at his own incoming joke, "You don't either...not anymore."

 ** _BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!_**

Hank backtracked in horror as he helplessly watched Lincoln mow down Hawk, whose torso was continuously torn open by the powerful hand cannon. When Lincoln holstered his revolver and turned toward him, the last of the two sighed in defeat.

"Make it quick...please."

"..." Lincoln pulled his Beretta 92FS and aimed it at Hank, who (along with Lincoln himself) wore a resigned and forlorn facial expression.

"With pleasure."

 ** _BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!_**

Amazingly, Lincoln felt a smidge of regret when he executed the more "sympathetic" of the duo. But did that mean Lincoln was capable of humanity and redemption worthy of a heel-face turn? Not exactly. In fact, this regret quickly subsided the moment _he_ finally showed up and walked in the station.

"LOUD! What are you – ?"

Flip was taken aback by the sight of Lincoln wielding a firearm, but the two bleeding bodies produced presumably by that very firearm really did a number on him. He rushed over to his phone and contacted the police. The boy waited for a few minutes before opening fire.

"Police! I'm being – !"

 ** _BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!_**


	3. Chapter 3: Gangsta's Paradise

**_(4:00 PM)_**

Cristina didn't know what to think when her former "stalker's" girlfriend showed up at her front doorstep.

There is always someone quiet in any given situation: Families, classmates, and _even the government_. However, it wasn't like these quiet people in question afraid that their loud mouths were extremely vulgar or high-pitched enough to shatter a glass ceiling. These people just wanted peace, tranquility, and a blithe slice of life. She was a gentle girl who was caring, nurturing, and loving (in the inside, anyway). Of course, taking the habitual action of rarely remaining talkative into consideration (even when the situation demands that she talked), she was one of those quiet people. So much in fact, that she had been going up with a certain doctor that would, quote, "make her talk like no one had ever talked". If you were given the task of teaching/persuading a silent person on communication, it would be an undoubtedly daunting one. It seemed it was too daunting for the people behind the facility in charge of performing this duty towards Cristina, who really didn't mind.

In truth, this whole debacle only started because she changed classes because of a recent incident with a boy in her former class. ( _Ha, three guesses as to who this boy was._ ) Supposedly, this boy had made a really awful video about her sisters and wanted to make amends with them. He did it by collecting video footage of himself doing various awkward things, one of them was practicing kissing with another girl, a crush of his. ( _Ha again, three guesses as to who this crush was._ ) Rubbing her the wrong way, her parents decided that the best course of action was switching classes. Still, it was rather complicated no matter how she looked at it. For one thing, she liked the fact that another boy had a crush on her. She assumed two things: **_1)_** The "staying quiet" routine made the boys believe that you need protection from dangerous minds, and **_2)_** her good nature and kind demeanor contributed to the first fact. This particular boy, however, was something else completely.

He was the one who got away...

...until he didn't.

Examining her from head to toe, Cristina slightly backtracked in contempt.

"Uh...can I help you?"

"Where is he?"

"... Who?"

"You know _damn_ who!"

"I actually don't."

"Ugh! Lincoln Loud, my boyfriend! The boy who was a victim of unsuspecting child abuse!"

"I...thought you didn't care..."

The girl backpedalled as well, this time in horror.

"Who...told you?"

"... Nobody. Everybody talks, Ronnie Anne."

Just like that, Cristina completely turned on a dime. Her normally sweet and quiet demeanor quickly reverted to that of a sour and roaring madman.

"Yeah, I know who you are. When Lincoln was accused of bad luck, you and his so-called best friend – Clyde, was it? – mocked him mercilessly and called him "Squirrel Boy" for weeks. But you both went back to your caring, loving, and nurturing selves the moment Lincoln disappeared without a trace. I know now that your tough girl façade was just a cover-up for your more sentimental side towards Lincoln, but do you truly love him like he did towards me? Yeah, I may have not appreciated him at first, but I saw something in him that you obviously didn't: A good conscience."

She didn't know how, she didn't know why. But the girl knew one thing: Coming here was a fatal mistake. In doing so, she did the one thing no one else (not even Lincoln) could do.

 _Cristina **broke** Ronnie Anne Santiago._

"I'm not racist in any way, but...go back to Mexico, you _anchor baby_."

 ** _SLAM!_**

A full moment passed before the little red-haired girl heard the little black-haired girl run off in tears. It broke Cristina's heart to break Ronnie Anne's with an offensive racial slur, but it just slipped out. She knew she could've stopped it from doing so...but she didn't _want_ to.

* * *

 ** _A Few Hours Ago. . ._**

 _To his own credit (though it may surprise you), Lincoln didn't immediately kill Flip right on the spot._

 ** _BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!_**

 _Flip screamed out in pain and clutched his bloodied knees, backing away from the approaching assailant. Lincoln continued to aim the freshly fired Beretta at the gas station owner, who raised his hands in innocent mercy._

 ** _"Please! What do you want, Loud?"_**

 _He said nothing and wordlessly marched behind the counter, prying open the cash register and taking every one of its contents. Scanning around, he decided to heed Linka's advice and take whatever food he could grab. Among these nourishments was the establishment's own famous " **Slurps** ", an assortment of different flavored slushies. He also helped himself to a hot dog with ketchup, all the while Flip watched helplessly as his store was being desecrated by a juvenile. His eyes eventually landed on his phone, which was still on and mere inches away._

 ** _BANG!_**

 _Unfortunately, Lincoln noticed this as well before he discharged a round into his stomach. Flip yelled out again before..._

 ** _BANG!_**

 _The old man's yells increased even further as he clutched his now profusely bleeding crotch._

 ** _"What the hell did you do that for?"_**

 _To his (and Lincoln's own) surprise, he chuckled in mirth._

 ** _"No reason."_**

 _Lincoln then frowned again that same stoic frown when he shot Flip in cold blood._

 ** _"It was an inconvenience when you tricked me into giving you me money in exchange for Lily's "blanket". It was an insult when you pit my best friend and me into a competition for your internship, turning us against each other in the process. But trapping me inside the Burpin' Burger with Lana and Lily inside? That is completely unacceptable._ _"_**

 _Flip was undoubtedly unnerved by Lincoln's cold tone. It was akin to a man who had nothing left to lose now._ _A man wasn't looking for anything logical like money, honor, or respect. A man can't be bought, bullied, reasoned, or negotiated with. A man...who just wanted to watch the world burn._

 _For the first time in forever since his father's passing, he cried. He cried as if his life depended on it._

 ** _"I'm sorry. I was...just trying to make a living. Forgive me..."_**

 _Lincoln's hardened gaze softened at the man's merciful apology. He knew now what to do._

 ** _"Don't worry. You already did...just as I already did as well."_**

 ** _BANG! BANG! BANG!_**

 _With three shots to the head, the young boy put the old man out of his misery._

 _So why didn't he feel glad that he did?_

 _Because some men aren't looking for anything logical, like money. They can't be bought, bullied, reasoned, or negotiated with. Some men just want to watch the world burn._ _And now...he was one of those men._

 _Suddenly, a thought occurred to Lincoln. ' Was there a camera here?' There was, and it had caught the tragic events that unfolded on tape. Fortunately, he had removed the videocassette and tucked it into his jacket. Rummaging around some more, he eventually founded a silver Walkman and a mixtape labeled " **Greatest Hits** ". 'Hmm... At least he had great taste in music.' Slipping on the headphones and playing the first song that played, he walked to his third victim's body. Struggling in a mental debate whether or not to hit the corpses, he ultimately decided against it. The police needed to know what happened here. Kneeling down, he closed Flip's eyelids to give off the impression he was merely sleeping._

 _' Huh. When did I become a man of God all of a sudden?'_

 ** _(" Gangsta's Paradise" – Coolio)_**

 _Lincoln stood and walked out the gas station/mini-mart, a feeling of halfhearted content swirling in his sickened stomach._

 ** _They been spending most their lives living in the gangsta's paradise_**  
 ** _They been spending most their lives living in the gangsta's paradise_**  
 ** _We keep spending most our lives living in the gangsta's paradise_**  
 ** _We keep spending most our lives living in the gangsta's paradise..._**

* * *

 _Somewhere far from Royal Woods, a young boy got dressed in a white long-sleeved collared shirt with a black vest, black dress pants with a brown belt, and black dress shoes. Not soon after, he took out, loaded, and readied his Remington 870 Entry Gun from the depths of his closet. You see, this particular young boy was having a very bad day like our white-haired protagonist, but his way of dealing with it (or **them** , in this case) was much more brutal and ruthless. Case in point, this establishing character moment._

 _The young boy slowly descended downstairs with his shotgun at the ready, spotting two adults in the living room watching a drama about (appropriately enough) parental neglect. So it's safe to assume that these two particular adults were his foster parents. The mother was 40 years old with potter's clay hair, elm eyes, a purple shirt, and a white pants with matching heels; The father was 42 years old with shark hair, blumine eyes, a white shirt, a black tie, and blue pants with black shoes. Both wore an expression that was akin to depression._

 _So it seemed rather fitting that their son placed them out of their (and **his** ) misery._

 ** _CLICK!_**

 _The parents looked up at the sound of a shotgun pump and turned to face the source. Imagine their surprise when it was their SON pointing a firearm at them, his finger itching at the trigger. Undoubtedly, every parent's worst nightmare._

 ** _"Sorry, Mom. Sorry, Dad. Nothing personal."_**

 ** _BANG! BANG!_**

* * *

 _ **A/N** : So I decided to rewrite this chapter because I saw, in one review, my intended crossover with **Fillmore!** didn't go as well as I thought. My contingency plan with **The Fairly OddParents** didn't help, either. My rewritten third chapter should compensate for that embarrassing universe starter. _


	4. Chapter 4: Out of Sight, Out of Control?

**_(Sunday, April 16th 2017)  
_** ** _(6:00 PM)_**

The entire family was seated in the entire living room, awaiting the news of their son/grandson/brother/nephew. Yes, this included their maternal grandfather Albert (or affectionately "Pop-Pop"), Aunt Shirley, and Great-Aunt Ruth. As you could guess, all of them were currently anxious over the currently unknown condition of the only preteen male in the Loud Family. The parents noticed that he was gone when he failed to answer during breakfast whilst in the backyard (more on that later) before checking outside themselves. Meanwhile, after checking every corner and crevice in the household, the sisters called up their friends to confirm or deny their knowledge of seeing him anywhere in their area. When they didn't, their uneasiness increased tenfold, wondering where Lincoln could have gone.

Seeing as they were the more grounded and down-to-earth siblings, Lori and Luna were the first to recognize their mistakes. Even so, the former was blatantly against calling the police, explaining to the latter that what they did to their brother was categorized as child abandonment, a form of child abuse; they could go to jail and charged with manslaughter (and technically conspiracy) as a result. However, she did agree to call them as a last resort, knowing that they were bound to get caught sooner or later. How anybody in the family failed to noticed this fact a long time ago was anybody's guess.

It still was a wonder to behold.

"So..." Albert frowned in alarm, "Neither of you have no idea where my grandson could have gone?"

"The police are investigating, Dad," Rita lied, "and so far, nothing has come up."

 _"I just hope they find him in time for my softball game next week..."_ Lynn murmured under her breath, something Luna noticed and scoffed under her breath in return.

 _"Greedy bugger..."_

"You two, stop it," Lori warned.

"Oh, come on, Lori! We both that Lincoln disappearing is all this bloody cock-up's fault!" Luna snapped.

"Luna Loud!"

"Watch your language, young lady!"

"How?"

The family turned to Albert, who wore a frown of confusion now. "How was this Lynn's fault?"

"Well, I'm glad you asked, Pop-Pop!" With an angry scowl on her face, Luna was ready to scream – or even _commit_ – bloody murder. "Everything that's happened is all Lynn's fault! Bar none! It seems fitting that since I was the one Lincoln trusted the most...he told me everything."

The blood of anyone who was Lincoln's primary family with the exception of Lori, Luna, Lily, and the elderly figures ran cold.

 _"Everything...?"_

"Everything..."

* * *

 ** _A Day Ago. . ._**

 _Lincoln arrived at the garage after departing from **Flip's Food & Fuel**. Parking his bike inside, he pulled off his mask and threw it onto the worktable along with his two guns. Catching his breath for several minutes (he hadn't stopped and taken a break), his eyes eventually landed on an antique mirror and remembered who it was that inspired him (or persuaded him) to carry out his first kill. Picking up his Beretta and walking towards it with caution, he called out for his twin:_

 ** _"Oh, Liberty!"_**

 _. . ._

 ** _BANG!_**

 _Lincoln yelped as his genderbent counterpart appeared in the mirror before him before recomposing himself._

 ** _"What? I'm just trying to take a shower, gosh darn it!"_**

 _Indeed, the sound of rushing water made his ears perk up. Lincoln realized his mistake and turned around to give Linka a sense of privacy before she giggled with mirth._

 _ **"Aw, I'm just kidding with ya, Linky! I'm not mad at you!"** Linka laughed as she grabbed a bar of soap and whispered over his shoulder, **"You can look if you want to..."**_

 _The way she made that offer simply oozed a certain kind of sultriness. It made him...both frightened and aroused. Even so, he realized and began to state the obvious fact._

 ** _"I know it might seem weird considering you and I are technically the same, but...that's the thing: we're the same."_**

 _. . ._

 _Huh, I guess she has a point._

 ** _"... Okay. You're probably wondering why I summoned you?"_**

 ** _"' Summoned', Lincoln? Just because I appear in a mirror doesn't mean I'm a ghost."_**

 ** _"It...doesn't?"_**

 ** _"... No. But staying on topic, why did you...summon me?"_**

 ** _"Oh, right! I did it!"_**

 ** _"Did what? Your sisters?"_**

 ** _"WHAT?! No, of course not! That's disgusting!"_**

 ** _"That's okay! I " did" my brothers, too!"_**

 ** _"LINKA!"_**

 ** _"Relax! I'm just kidding with you...or am I?"_**

 ** _"No, I mean... My first kill! Or, rather, first KILLS."_**

 ** _"What?"_**

 ** _"Three kills in one day, huh? And all of them I held a grudge on for different reasons. The best part? I didn't even break a sweat."_**

 ** _"Heh. Beginner's luck, Linc. You may have had it on your side today, but it may not be on it tomorrow. I don't want to jinx you or anything, but..."_**

 ** _"Right. Don't get cocky. Got it. Honestly though, I really don't care if luck was on my side or not; that's kind of the reason why I'm here now."_**

 ** _"Don't forget my reason."_**

 ** _"Right, sorry."_**

 ** _"Lincoln?"_**

 _Lincoln and Linka both froze at the voice of the former's third eldest sister calling out for him. The latter motioned towards his equipment, to which he nodded in understanding._

 _Luna was among the first to realize that she fucked up royally (the very first was Lori). She knew something was wrong the moment her parents began to leave Lincoln locked outside in the midst of the bad luck scandal. First, they ban him from their activities; second, they board up his room and sell all his belongings; and third, they...lock him out of the house like he was an animal? Actually, come to think of it, didn't they state quite crystal clearly that they would never kick one of their own out during that one incident with the ties? Even if they kept him on the premises, this still didn't excuse them in the slightest. This predicament only got a lot worse when she explained her dilemma to Lori. It turns out that the eldest sibling herself went to Lisa for her own sticky situation and discovered that locking your own son/brother outside for an absolutely phony reason was categorized as child abandonment, which in turn was a form of child abuse, and could lead up to five or ten years in prison._

 _Yeah, this isn't the first time you read this, and it probably won't be the last._

 _While the family was out celebrating a victory at the **Burpin' Burger** , Lori drove Luna home with the intent of apologizing to Lincoln and possibly bringing him alone for a quick bite, her excuse being that she left her wallet at the house. Entering inside the house, the rocker checked everywhere from the basement to the kitchen before heading upstairs from the individual rooms to the attic. Her anxiety increasing tenfold, she headed downstairs and checked the backyard but found nothing. Glancing to her left, then her right, and noticing the garage where she formed the family band, Luna sprinted over and pulled open the door..._

 _...to find Lincoln holding a Beretta 92FS on her._

* * *

Of course, she left this part out when explaining what he had told her from beginning to end. The sight of her younger brother aiming _a gun of all things_ at her was a sight that was too dreadful to leave one's mind just like that. It rattled her to the core. All the while, her family listened intently while her parents themselves silently sobbed with regret and sorrow. After a moment of silence, Lynn grew a bit of backbone for a quite brave yet idiotic question to ask Luna:

 _"How do you know he wasn't lying to you...?"_

She groaned into her hands and turned to face her younger sibling.

"He wasn't. I could tell. I have it on tape."

"It could've been staged!"

"It wasn't staged! He was telling the truth!"

"You don't know that!"

"I'm willing to take a chance!"

"... I believe you."

Everybody turned to face Lucy, who was known for being incredibly uncomfortable whilst being the center of attention. However, she found it within herself to continue on.

"I...believe you, Luna."

"What...?" Lynn was slowly beginning to lose her patience and marched toward her; Albert sensed something was wrong and got up as well, walking over just in time to place himself between her and Lucy. "Let me get this straight: you...a so-called practitioner of black magic and the supernatural...don't believe that Lincoln is bad luck?" Her face began to bear an angry scowl before unleashing it onto her twin roommate. "You're a coward, then! You just refuse to see the truth like I do! Can't you see that Lincoln is bad luck? Why can't you? Every time he appears to one of my games, I lose! And it's not just me who suffers as a result, but _my entire team_! Lucy, Lincoln is the weakest link in this generation of Louds, and it's my job to make sure this family strives to win because we don't tolerate losers! **_ONLY SATAN DOES!_**"

 ** _"Linda Loud Junior, that's enough!"_**

Rita and Lynn were starting to believe that this bad luck fiasco was finally getting out of hand and taking its toll on them. Meanwhile, to her own credit, Lucy released only a few silent tears before chuckling.

 _. . ._

 _No... **Giggling**._

 _. . ._

 _And then **chuckling**._

 _. . ._

 _And finally **cackling**._

Out of all the family members who were unnerved by this frightening display of brutal honesty, the prize had to go to Lynn Jr., who – amidst her stumbling backward – was beginning to regret her decision to lash out against Lucy. She did calm down, only for her to go into the kitchen and do whatever Heaven knows what. A moment later, she returned with a kitchen knife – _Wait, what?!_

 _"You...call me a coward one more time..."_ Lucy started off slowly...

 _ **"...AND I'LL CUT YOUR FUCKING HEAD OFF! PIECE BY PIECE! DO YOU UNDERSTAND, YOU BITCH?!"**_

...before finishing on quickly. Topping it off, she hurled the knife at a dodging-the-bullet(in this case, blade) Lynn and instead the utensil embedded itself in the wall. A moment of tense silence immediately followed before Lucy came to her senses and bolted upstairs to her room. Locking the door behind her, she flopped onto her bed and curled into a ball as she sobbed away.

 _. . ._

 _. . ._

 _. . ._

 ** _"Lucy..."_**

 _. . ._

 ** _"Lucy...?"_**

 _. . ._

 ** _"Lucy!"_**

The goth girl herself shot up from her bed when she heard her name being called. At first, she believed it to coming from outside the room...but fell in a standstill after finding it to be from _inside_.

 ** _"Who's there?"_**

 _. . ._

 ** _"Who else, Lucy?"_**

Coming face to face with an antique mirror, Lucy cautiously walked towards it and stuck out a hand to reach.

 _. . ._

 ** _"LUCY!"_**

She shouted in surprise as she fell backward and landed on her rear. When she regained her vision, her breath hitched at the sight before her.

 _. . ._

 ** _"Lincoln...?"_**

The girl in the mirror giggled under her breath before smirking.

 ** _"No...but you're pretty damn close. We need to talk. Tout suite."_**

* * *

 _ **A/N** : Three months ( **April 14th, 2018 to July 7th, 2018** ) have passed since I've last updated this story, but I'm back, baby! In this chapter, Lincoln threatens Luna and Linka threatens Lucy. (That's just the summarized version. In reality, the entire family is at the Loud House discussing his disappearance when Luna reveals everything that she was told by him. When Lynn refuses to believe this, Lucy goes ballistic and almost kills her. The UNRATED version had her break Lynn's arm and beat her to a pulp.)_

 _Lucy didn't almost kill Lynn out of rage, but rather out of control. Make of that what you will._


End file.
